Thunder Sandwich #12-It's What's For Lunch
Poetry By

Trina Stolec



Alteration

You made me realize
sometimes it isn't necessary
to look beyond;
a joke can be
just a joke
Smell the rose
without contemplation
of why it grew
in that particular spot
Accept chance
not fate
Move on.

Your shallow waters
call the ocean
Evaporate it to a
mud puddle
The clouds cry their rain
out of sight
It can't hurt us
The horizon between
here and there is
an endless field of
hardened earth
the till can't penetrate
An easy walk.
no mountains to scale
or sinkholes opening
chilled catacombs
for exploration
No rose to contemplate
Its scent stolen by
the wind of stoic indifference
Not even a stone to trip on,
twist an ankle,
scrape a knee.

The noose of belonging
hung us both
in arid Arctic air
I watch you hunt now
for an elusive love
you no longer have the capacity
to feel.

The wind shifts
I catch the slight scent of a Whiskey Mac
miraged on the edge of a polished granite cliff
The ocean breathes in my face,
deposits curious creatures to contemplate
when it retreats back to the Catacombs
where a pirate's ransom glitters
in pin light sunshine piercing down from the cliff top
Frustration's raindrops wash the air
Elation's fountain eventually cries back into the ocean
Their voices spiral up from the chasms,
hail down from the mountain peaks,
thunder over your wasteland horizon.

Your way or mine.
one and one make two,
but roses smell like wine here.
catacombs are the only path
to the summit here.
and I don't want
to be like you.

**********************************************



Other Poets

The other poets
always end up with
sappy love poems,
angel sonnets,
uplifting couplets,
stark reality
with a happy ending
where the underdog
wins the day
because that's the way
poetry's supposed
to be --
perpetuation of
dangerous myths.
They complain I
never write
sappy love shit,
happy endings to
ugly reality.
I disturb their senses
with the way it
really is in the world,
perpetuated truth
instead of myths
they choose.

**********************************************



Run

Sometimes.
I want to run
straight to you.
Let your arms fold me in,
hold me tight.
Feel the world evaporate
until it's just us again,
and it's finally safe
to cry.

Most times.
I push each muscle to its limit
pumping, stretching, pounding, straining.
Sanity prevails
as I race in whatever direction
will take me furthest away
from you.



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